Harriet the Steele
by cleo'smuse
Summary: This story introduces one vision of the Holt-Steele family, who I plan to revisit in a second story soon. This is my first ever fanfiction, and my first story in many years. comments welcomed. I don't own the characters, and this is not for profit.
1. Chapter 1

Harriet Holt-Steele stepped off the bus and surveyed the twin office buildings in front of her. She'd been to the Century Towers, where her parents had their offices, many times, but this was the first time she'd navigated the route their on her own. Her parents weren't expecting her, and Harriet felt quite proud of herself for figuring out the bus route all on her own. She felt less proud about the purpose of her visit to her parents' office.

As she made her way through the lobby, signed in as a visitor and took the elevator to the 11th floor, Harriet contemplated her plan. She had a note from her fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Anderson – a very troublesome note that required one of her parents' signatures. Harriet, however, preferred to avoid explaining the contents of the note to either parent, and particularly her mother. Hence the plan. Harriet had overheard how her father had, on more than one occasion, failed to read the documents he was signing. Her plan was based upon the assumption that this held true.

Harriet stepped off the elevator and carefully surveyed her surroundings while acting nonchalant. She had seen her parents do the same on many occasions, and she was practicing her own skills at sizing up a situation and taking action. As she stepped into the suite of offices that was home to her parents' detective agency, she put on her brightest and most innocent face to greet her "Aunt" Mildred.

She stepped up to Mildred Kreb's reception and computing desk, and waiting for Mildred to look up. When Mildred did, Harriet said cheerily, "Hi Aunt Mildred! I thought I'd come by for a visit!"

"Well, hi Kiddo! I wasn't expecting you." Mildred paused and looked at Harriet a bit suspiciously. "How did you get here?"

Harriet smiled wisely. "I took the bus." Then she grinned. "I figured out the route from school by myself!"

"Oh, you're growing up so quickly sweetie! Come give Aunt Mildred a hug!:

Harriet did. She liked Mildred's hugs. Mildred loved her dearly and didn't hesitate to show it, even as Harriet was growing up. It was refreshing compared to some grown ups who didn't know whether to treat her as a kid or an adult. It was nice to feel safely in the "kid" category, even while she knew Mildred respected her as a person.

"Hey, Mildred. Can I help with anything while I'm here? I want to go say hi to mom and dad." Harriet was hoping she had arrived in time to take the day's worth of paperwork in for her father's signature, since her plan depended on it.

"As a matter of fact, I have a small stack of papers for your mom and dad to sign. And the day's mail. You wanna take those in to them?"

"Sure!" said Harriet. Mildred was handing over the two stacks just as Harriet's mom walked out of her office.

Laura Holt-Steele stopped in her tracks seeing her youngest child in her office unexpectedly. She recovered and strode over to Harriet, who now had all of the papers and mail in her hand.

"Harriet, honey, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?" Harriet's mom was just a head taller than her daughter, and she leaned over and absently gave the girl a kiss on the top of her head and smoothed her hair. Then, Laura looked into Harriet's eyes to try to read if her daughter's surprise visit was a reason for concern.

"No mom. I just wanted to come say hello and see if I could get myself here alone."

Harriet's mom sighed. Half with relief and half with exasperation. "Harriet, our understanding is that you go directly home from school on days you don't have dance or gymnastics."

"I know, mom." But this is almost as easy to get to as home, and just as safe. I kind of wanted to be with you and dad."

Her mom looked at her, kind of like she'd never seen her before. "All by yourself, huh?" Her mom grinned, and gave her a squeeze. "You're growing up so fast." Laura shook her head and turned to Mildred to say something about the file on the Lightner case, then turned back to Harriet – go surprise your dad. I think he'll be pretty impressed you made it here alone!"

As Harriet walked to her dad's big office, she snuck one more piece of paper from her jacket pocket and unfolded it while she walked, trying to be discrete. It was really tricky, but she had to get the paper into the pile. She got it unfolded before she got to the door. Then she, paused, acting like she was juggling the papers and the mail to be able to get to the doorknob. While she was paused, she stuffed the note from her teacher in the middle of the other papers. She'd seen how Mildred would place sticky arrows where her dad needed to sign, and she'd stopped at Walgreens and used some of her allowance to buy some of the yellow arrows Mildred used.

She walked into the office purposefully, and sat the mail down quietly. Her dad barely looked up from the game of chess he was playing on the sleek Mac in his office. When he glanced up, he realized who had brought the mail.

"Harriet, my dear." He boomed. Her dad was larger than life sometimes, but she knew he was being a little bit silly when he said her name like she was an important businesswoman. Harriet ran over to his desk, beaming. "Hi, daddy."

"What are you doing her, dear heart?" Remington contemplated his daughter, who was growing up so quickly. She was named after the name his own father had called him – Harry. Although, of course, Remington hadn't known Daniel was his father until just before Daniel died almost 20 years ago. Remington didn't know his real name, but he'd long since come to terms with that fact and taken on the mantle of Remington Steele in name and heart. Still, naming his son after Daniel and his daughter after Daniel's name for him helped bring that part of his history into the present.

"I thought I'd come by for a visit. I figured out the bus myself."

"All by yourself, eh? That's quite ingenious. I dare say, I wouldn't know what bus to take."

"Well, it's easy – google maps tells me exactly where to go."

"Ah. My daugher the computer whiz!"

Harriet smiled, then pointed, with her left pointer finger, at the mail and paperwork. "I brought you the mail., And Aunt Mildred sent in some papers for you to sign." Harriet threw in her own bid for her father to hurry. "She wants them back as soon as you can – Mom needs to review them before she leaves for the day."

"Ah, I see. Well, I'll get right to it then."

"thanks, daddy. I'll come back in in just a few minutes for them."

Harriet went back to the reception area, and walked over to Mildred, who was just getting off the phone. "Cop a squat, honey. Tell me what's new in your life," said Mildred

Harriet went and sat on the edge of Mildred's desk, close to the office doors. "Well, I'm dancing a solo in the spring dance concert, and we have a dance at school in April before we go to 6th grade."

"Oooh. Are there any young men you're excited to dance with?"

"Ewww!! Shrieked Harriet. Then she kind of smiled. "Well, I wouldn't mind too much if Patrick O'Reilly asked me to dance. He has pretty blue eyes and he's in my dance class."

Mildred knew better than to laugh at the mix of little girl and young woman in the 11 year old. She was especially tempted to laugh when Harriet asked in a quite serious and grown up way, "How's Mack doing? Are you still going hot and heavy?" Mildred hoped Harriet didn't have a clue what hot and heavy meant.

"So to speak my dear. He took me on his sailboat last Saturday, and view was divine."

"Do you think he'll ask you to marry him?"

"I don't know honey. And I'm not sure what I'd say if he did. But I sure do like his company. We have a swell time together."

Harriet smiled knowingly. "I'm glad Aunt Midlred. Really glad for you. Maybe you can give me some dating tips if Patrick O"Reilly asks me to dance."

"Sure, kiddo. I'm no expert, but I've been around the block a few times." Mildred winked.

Harried winked back. "I'm gonna go see if daddy is done with his signatures."

"thanks, hon."

Harriet stepped to her dad's office, just as he signed his name on the last page, with a characteristic flourish. "All done, daddy? I can take them in to Mommy."

"Well here you go, my little busy bee," he said as he handed the papers off to her. She turned around to walk to the reception doors.

"Aren't you going to use the connecting door?" her father said.

"Harriet turned to look at him. "I thought mom locks it sometimes so you can't barge in on her."

Her father laughed wholeheartedly, at his daughter's observation and matter-of-fact approach to his and Laura's relationship.

"Only when she's angry with me, darling. Which I think is not the case right now."

"Oh, okay." Said Harriet as she shifted directions. She had been hoping to pull her teacher's note out as she was between offices. Going through the adjoining door would make this difficult.

Just as she reached her mother's doorknob, her father said. "Oh, and about that note from your teacher, what gives?"

Harriet paused as if she'd been punched. She'd been caught. She turned slowly to face the music. "Ummm."

"Yes, uumm. Go ahead."

"Well, I didn't want to bother you with it. It's nothing, really."

"Ah, yes, a note your teacher asked your parents to sign, so she could be sure we'd seen it. Definitely sounds like nothing. Why were you picking the lock on your teacher's desk at school? We've talked about this. I only taught you to pick locks in case you got locked out of the house."

"Well. I just wanted to see if I could."

"Aah. So you were alone?"

"Well, no. Other kids were watching."

"Ah. You know, my dear Harriet. I think we should get the full story later. Perhaps after dinner. In the meantime, do you want to tell you mother about your lock-picking escapades, and the somewhat shady reason for your visit to the office, or shall I?"

Harriet signed. "Well. I guess I should." She hung her head, then looked up, and smiled a wry smile. "I think she's gonna be mad at both of us to find out you taught me how to pick a lock."

"Nonsense. It was your mother's idea." Said Remington Steele, confidently. He knew full well Laura would be furious. "Perhaps you should break that part to her gently, dear. It might help both of us get an easier punishment." He smiled and walked over to his daughter, kissed her head, and then nudged her in the direction of her mother's door.

"Hi, mom,"

"Hi, dear."

"I have some papers for you."

"Oh, thanks."

Her mother was a bit absent as she focused on the papers already in front of her. Harriet put the papers in her hand down to her mother's left, then went behind her and leaned against her mom, playing with her mom's hair. She knew her mom liked this.

"Mommy, I have to tell you something."

Her mom's dark brown eyes looked into Harriet's, which were blue like her fathers. Harriet, however, had her mum's auburn wavy hair and delicate features.

Harriet burst into tears.

"what's wrong dear?" Her mom gave her a hug, dismayed to see her daughter to distraught."

Harrietn just sobbed for a minute, feeling like she had disappointed her mother horribly. She knew her father had been as much dismayed as proud of her lock-picking skill. But she knew her mother wasn't likely to find it as amusing. Her parents both had a good sense of humor, except when they disagreed. But her mom was a bit more of a stickler for rules than her dad, who Harriet thought, sort of saw rules as dares, or at least thought rules didn't apply to him.

Harriet recovered a bit. "Mom. I got in trouble at school!" She sobbed again, then caught her breath and it all tumbled out. "I was picking the lock on my teacher's desk, and got caught. She sent a note home for you and daddy, and I snuck it in for daddy to sign, since he never reads anything anyway, only he did, and I got caught again!" Harriet found fresh tears, and stopped her story in wail.

Laura Holt-Steele tried to suppress a laugh at her irrepressible precocious daughter. "You got caught you say? Well, we'll have to work on your finesse then, won't we?" She smiled, so Harriet could see she wasn't really angry. "But this is a serious matter, this deception. We'll have to talk it out, don't you think, and come up with an appropriate punishment?"

Harriet nodded soberly, then quiet tears streamed down her face. Her mum was being so nice. And her dad too for that matter. Her mom laughed. "I don't know if you're more like him" she nodded in the direction of Remington's door, "or me." She stood and gave her daughter a big hug, then pulled away a bit to look into her daughter's eyes. "How did you learn to pick a lock anyway?"

Harriet mimicked her mother's gesture, and nodded her head toward her father's door.

"Ah, so you won't be alone getting into trouble tonight, huh?" Her mom laughed heartily. "Oh, Harriet, what WILL I do with you or your father? What say I take off early and we spend some time together. Shall we go catch some waves?"

harriet nodeed vigorously.

"Leb me just go tell you're father that I'm outta here."" Why don't you go out and talk to Aunt Mildred?"

Harriet went out to lay on the couch in reception. In a moment she could hear her parents – the walls of the suite were quite thin.

Laura sidled up to her husband, as affectionate with him as Harriet had been with her. Laura ran her hands through Remington's hair. Gave him a kiss on the cheek, then whispered in his ear. "So, you taught our 11-year-old daugher how to pick a lock, did you?"

Her father put his arms up in mock protest." I'm innocent, Laura, I swerat it."

Then the argument began. "I thought we agreed to shelter the kids from our work, and there you go, teaching them the trade."

"you have to admit, she's quite the student, Laura. I'm proud of her creativity."

"Creativity? Laura spat. "deception, you mean?"

"Ah, Laura, you know you are as amused as I."

Harriet heard a pause, then her parents giggling like her and her friends.

"She is quite a kid, Rem."

"A chip off the old block."


	2. Chapter 2

Surfing with her mum was one of Harriet's favorite things in the whole world. Her mom, who'd grown up in So Cal had learned to surf because Harriet, at age 6, thought it would be fun. The family home, in Santa Monica, was four blocks from the ocean. It wasn't the_ best _surfing, but it was convenient, and easy, and fun.

Laura's old steady VW Rabbit was in the garage at work, so she and Harriet popped off with the top down to swing by the house for bathing suits and surf boards. Traffic was no worse than the usual LA traffic from downtown to the beach and less than an hour later, the two gals were in the water.

The thing about surfing with mom, thought Harriet, is that she seems young when we're in the water. It's like I get to see my mom as a person, rather than my mom. And she's pretty cool.

Truth was, Laura was the stricter parent, when you got down to it. Remington's laissez faire attitude about details bled into his parenting, although when he did see a problem he tended to come down more dramatically than Laura. Laura was the steady parent. But, in the water, she was Laura, in the moment, frolicking with the ocean.

Laura loved surfing with Harriet as much as Harriet loved the time with her mom. Laura marveled that it was her child who really got her into surfing. Sure, she'd tried it as a kid – it was a normal thing to try living in southern California. But it never took until a six-year-old Harriet – missing four front teeth and with sparkling blue eyes – asked her mommy to take her. That very first day, they both stood up exactly once, fell directly off again, exactly once, and laughed dozens of times while they fell repeatedly, or caught waves stuck on their knees. Laura had always felt at home in the water, and her daughter shared that in common. They'd gotten Remington out on a surfboard once, but his long limbs made for a high center of gravity. Laura's husband, who was the epitome of grace, looked like a flailing teenager on a surfboard. And their son, Daniel, really was more of a basketball kind of guy.

So, surfing was a girl thing in the Holt-Steele household, and both gals liked it that way just fine. By now, they were both reasonably good, so when they arrived back home at around 6:30, both Laura and Harriet felt full of life, happily connected, and absolutely famished.

Laura asked Harriet to rinse the boards while she ran into shower and help Remington – the family chef – finish dinner. Harriet obliged, dreading a bit the conversation she'd be having with her parents after dinner. Laura, popped her head into the kitchen to let Remington know they were home. The house smelled – as always at about this time – delightful, and Laura's mouth watered in anticipation. When Remington saw her, his heart skipped a beat. When Laura came home from time at the ocean, she looked young, exuberant, and so alive. It was irresistible. He walked over to her and gave her a warm hug.

"that feels as wonderful as dinner smells," Laura murmered into his shoulders.

"You look even lovelier, my dear." The kissed, and hugged until Remington remembered dinner.

"I'll be down to help you in 15 minutes, dear." And Laura bounded up the stairs like a teenager.

At that moment, Daniel, who was a teenager, arrived home from basketball practice and strode directly to the refrigerator, which he propped open and stared at for a couple of minutes.

"Hi, son."

"Oh, hi dad."

"You know, dinner will be ready in a few minutes, so maybe you can stop using the refridge as an air conditioner."

"Sorry, dad. I'm starving."

"Here, this should tide you over." Remington tossed his son a Gala apple.

"Thanks, dad," Daniel said taking a big bite of apple. "hey dad, can I talk to you about something?" Daniel and his father often had conversations while Remington put the finishing touches on dinner. Remington tended to be his most approachable and relaxed while cooking dinner, in part because his attention was on the food, and in part because he was so happy in the kitchen. Daniel knew to be quite at critical moments, but "the guys" did much of their best talking in the last few minutes before dinner.

"Of course. What's on your mind?" Remington directed his blue eyes toward his son, trying to ascertain if there was reason for worry in his son's unusually direct request to talk. Usually conversation just flowed.

"Well, remember how you and mom have a rule that I can't date until I'm 16? There's this girl – a really nice girl – and I really like her. We've been hanging out a lot, with other friends, of course. I kind of want to ask her out." Daniel smiled, a bit bashful at this brazen admission to liking a girl. "And, I think she might be wondering why I haven't asked her out. … So, I was wondering if you and mom could bend the rules a bit, so I can … well, go on a date with her."

Remington took a break from chopping the cilantro that would garnish the Indian food he's been making, and looked at his son. He cleared his throat, a bit unsure about how to approach this topic. He, of course, had never had rules governing his connections with women. He'd started dating – if you could call it that – young, and had dated actively until he met Laura. He wasn't sure he was the best example, and had dreaded dealing with this aspect of his kid's growing up.

"Well. You know, we created that rule to protect you. Dating is … well, can be … complicated and ah, sometimes confusing. We wanted you to be ready to deal with that."

"Dad – it's already complicated and confusing. I feel these things and I feel like I can't act on them because of a rule. And I feel like I'm leading Rebecca – that's her name – well, leading her on, since I'm clearly giving her my attention, but not saying anything about how I feel. I know she's confused, too."

"Well," Remington said, finishing the cilantro with a flourish and preparing four plates – he usually prepared the plates, restaurant style, with artistic flair – no "family style" meals in this home. "Well …" he said again, stymied. "why don't I have a talk with your mum. I do hear the quandary. Perhaps we can come up with a compromise. And in the meantime – what about just telling the girl how you feel, and that your folks are a bit strict about this sort of thing?" I imagine that will win him some sympathy from the young lade, thought Remington.

"Thanks, da. And Dad, thanks for not laughing at me."

"Ah, my son, matters of the heart are no laughing matter." Remington smiled ruefully, though his eyes twinkled, then rumbled his sons hair, noticing that Daniel really was only a few inches shorter then him. He was sure Daniel would have no problem in the dating area – he was athletic, as attractive as Remington had been in his youth, intelligent, and emotionally so well adjusted that it was difficult to believe he was Laura and Remington's son.

---

Dinner was fairly quiet, not so much with tension, but each member of the family was thinking about the little family dramas conspiring. Daniel was on pins and needles wondering how his dad's talk with mum would go. Harriet, of course, was preoccupied wondering how her discussion with both parents would go – both of them at once was sometimes overwhelming – she would be half focused on their interactions with her while trying to read the silent conversation between the two of them. The silent conversation usually told her more about her fate than what they said directly, so it was important to "read" her parents gestures and expressions and be able to address what they were thinking but not saying. This was especially true of her mother, who tended to think about things for a while before speaking – unless she was really angry.

Remington was thinking about his son's quandary, trying to piece out what he thought about letting the boy start dating, reeling a bit that his son was so grown up, and wondering how to approach the topic with Laura, who he knew would be adamant about the rule.

Laura was trying to figure out how to punish Harriet, when she found the whole situation rather amusing. She noted the familiar feeling that she was too much of a pushover where her daughter was concerned. Laura saw a great deal of her own self in her daughter, and she wanted to encourage the very qualities that had so disturbed her own mother. It felt like a narrow line to provide parental guidance and rules while allowing her daughter's adventurous and creative spirit to emerge. If anything, she was more frustrated Remington had taught an 11-year-old how to pick a lock, and the encouragement toward deception that represented.

Her son, Daniel, was an easier child for her to parent. He had always been easy-going and good-natured. She laughed a lot with Daniel, even when he was a little boy, they'd have giggle fests and tickling contests and then he would snuggle into her. Laura had never known such easy affection in her life, and she was so grateful for the little boy's openness. Even as he grew up, he remained affectionate, giving her bear hugs after school, treating her with gallantry and respect that reminded her of his father. Of course, his affection was more limited around his friends, but he'd surprised her a few times by openly hugging her when she'd walked in to a kitchen-ful of teenage boys raiding the fridge. As a result of her son's open respect, his friends tended to be pretty open with her, and a few had even asked her advice about girls.

After dinner, Remington directed his gaze at Daniel while delicately touching his napkin to the corner of his mouth. "Son, would you cover dishes duty this evening? Your mother and I need to have a conversation with Miss Harriet."

"Ah, dad. But it's her week. Can't she do it after?"

"I'm afraid it might be quite late when we finish," Remington directed a stern gaze at Harriet. She couldn't tell if he was serious or kidding. "She'll cover one of your nights next week."

"Okay." Said Daniel grudgingly. "Can I leave the pots? I have a lot of algebra homework."

Remington sighed. "Sure. Your mom and I can cover those."

---

Harriet and her parents made their way into the living room, Remington with after dinner tea, and Laura with the kind of stainless steele water bottle everyone was carrying. Harriet was nervous, but not intimidated.

Her parents looked at one another meaningfully. Harriet saw her mother give her father a nod with her eyes. He cleared his throat. "So … sit down my dear." He said rocking back and forth on his heels. She sat down on one of the big chairs by the fireplace.

Her mother nodded to her father and they both sat down, too. "Harriet," her mom said clearly, looking into her eyes. "We're concerned about the deception in your actions today – sneaking around picking locks, and then trying to hide your teacher's note from us. Honesty is very important in our family," her mother paused looking into her father's eyes, "so we need to have a serious talk about why you felt you couldn't come to us about this directly. And … why you were picking locks in the first place."

Harriet was floored. She'd just expected a punishment not a discussion. She wasn't sure what to say. She really didn't want to talk about it. How could she explain her choices without sounding childish and irresponsible?

"Why don't you go back to the first events and proceed accordingly, dear?" Said her father.

Harriet looked at him quizzically.

"He means, start at the beginning," said her mother.

"Welll … um." How much to say? Harriet knew her parents were able to tell the truth of a matter without fully revealing her hand. She'd wanted to learn to emulate the skill, but now that the opportunity was in front of her, she realized how hard it was. Her parents' perceptiveness and quick wit felt overwhelming.

"It all started when the kids started teasing me about you two being "big shot detectives. It really wasn't mean, exactly, more like friendly teasing, but it made me mad. So I told them that being detectives meant you could do some pretty cool things – like pick locks and adopt disguises. Well, of course some of the kids joked that their parents adopted disguises all the time – they're actors – " Harriet laughed a little, "but still, I didn't like them making fun of what you do. I know you work really hard." This is the truth, thought Harriet. Although she did choose to emphasize the part about her parents working hard by looking earnestly into each parents eyes as you spoke it and finished.

"So, how did that lead to picking your teachers lock?" prompted her mom.

"Well … I told them I was so proud of what you do that I was practicing to be a detective, too. I didn't show them my whole spy kit, but I did tell them I could pick locks – that daddy showed me how. They thought it was cool I could pick locks and asked me to show them. Dared me to, actually." Harriet threw up her hands in a gesture her father sometimes made, the gesture that said, "What could I do?"

"So, yesterday when the teacher stepped out of the classroom and left Janie Hampton in charge, a few of the kids, including Janie, said to pick the lock on the teacher's desk. It's the only lock in the classroom, and we've seen her open it to pull out candy for bribes – well, she calls them rewards – and also for cash. Janie said if I didn't do it, she'd tell the teacher I was disruptive while she was gone."

Harriet paused, looked at her parents. They were involved in her story, and didn't take their eyes off of her.

"What happened next?" Laura asked.

"Well, I had my pick set with me – "

"You have a pick set?" Laura asked Harriet, looking at Remington. He acted like he didn't see her.

"Go on, dear," he said.

"Yes – daddy gave me an old one." Laura looked at her husband, who sank into the chair a little, looking sheepish.

"Anyway, I had it with me, so I went up to the desk. The drawer was on the far side of the desk from the door, so I couldn't **see** the door. I went to work, and just as I got it and stood up with a big "voila" – by then I had kind of gotten into the game, and I was excited I'd been able to pick the lock – well, the teacher had quietly opened the classroom door. I was caught – red-handed so to speak."

"And then your teacher gave us a note, which you tried to sneak into the paperwork your father doesn't usually read, so you wouldn't have to tell us."

Her father looked indignant. "I've learned my lesson on that count, Laura dear. In case you don't recall, I found Harriet's paper and exposed this whole mess."

"That you did, dear – brilliant deduction."

Harriet was glad for the banter – they couldn't be too angry with her if they were teasing each other so.

"Why did you try to hide the note from your teacher?" Laura asked.

Harriet took a deep breath. "I didn't want to disappoint you. I haven't been in trouble at school before. Plus, daddy told me not to tell you I could pick locks." She realized her mistake in stating this fact – her father wouldn't appreciate the revelation, and that was likely to prompt him to inquire more deeply.

"Ah, but if that were the concern, dear, you might have thought to come directly to me to sign your paper, without involving your mother."

"You two tell each other everything."

"Well, usually, yes. But I might have been inclined not to implicate myself in your little … escapade, eh?"

His wife's eyes turned indignant, until she realized he was teasing her, and she mock punched him on the arm.

"Ah, good point, my dear wife – best to be forthright in these matters, eh?"

"I would say so, Mr. Steele."

Harriet made to get up. "Well, if we're done here" she made a big show of yawning and stretching her arms, "I'm exhausted and have some homework to finish before bed." She took two steps before her father had grabbed her arm and pulled her gently – but firmly – back to the chair.

"Not so fast, Harriet, dear. We still have the matter of your penalty to consider. Hold tight – your mother and I need to consult in the other room."

As the went into the hallway, Harriet could hear their voices, but they were speaking to low for her to hear. She heard a moment of tension in her mother's voice, but it didn't last long.

Outside, Laura was half amused and half seething. "You teach our 11-year-old daughter how to pick locks and _give_ her a pick set, Mr. Steele? I'm going to have to reprimand you for that later," she said vehemently.

"Ah, Mrs. Steele, is that a proposition I hear in your voice? Titillating, scintillating, yes, sounds downright exciting."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

They stared each other down for a moment.

"We'll continue this conversation later." She said.

"I'm looking forward to it." He winked.

"Punishment, for our daughter, Mr. Steele?" Laura pointed to the door.

"Ideas, Mrs. Steele?"

"The truth? Perhaps, the best punishment for deception is telling the truth and apologizing – to her teacher, to Mildred?" pondered Laura.

"Ah, yes, let the punishment fit the crime. I like it. And I bet she won't." he replied.

"Well, then it's perfect, wouldn't you agree?" She turned to return to Harriet, then looked back at him. "I'm not finished with you, you know."

He just winked.

Laura and Remington went in and shared Harriet's verdict with her. It was obvious she didn't like it, but she took it in stride, and said morosely, "that's fair." She was glad she wasn't grounded – the fifth grade dance was coming up and her heart was set on going, so she took what they dished out.

As they finished, her father turned to her with a gleam in his eye. She knew he was finding a way to pay her back for exposing the fact that he'd given her a pick set.

"Harriet, what did you mean by your spy kit?"

This was the secret she didn't want to share – not because she'd be in trouble, but because it was hers. It felt private, and important, and she didn't want them laughing at her.

"Well, you know, I've always loved excitement." She looked up at them. "I want to be a detective like you two. I've been practicing. And then, when I read Harriet the Spy, it just seemed to perfect. Like I'm meant to be one. So I put together a spy kit like Harriet in the book had, and I've been honing my powers of observation."

Her mom laughed – but not the kind of laugh Harriet had feared. Her mom wasn't laughing at her. It was a laugh that conveyed her mom liked being let in on the joke.

Her father looked puzzled.

Laura and Harriet said, simultaneously. "Harriet the Spy. Lousie Fitzhugh. Harper & Row, 1964. An 11-year-old girl trains to be a spy, to the dismay of her friends."

Laura added "You might know the annotation better as "Harriet the Spy, Michelle Trachtenberg, Kim Cattrall, Nickelodeon studios, 1996."

Harriet's mom looked at her closely, almost admiringly. "You are certainly growing up quickly, my dear. And not falling far from the tree, huh?" Her mom walked over to her and pulled her up into a hug. Then did the oddest thing. She laughed. "Harriet, please tell me if I'm ever inconsiderate about your dreams or passions. My mother had a hard time respecting my profession, and I want to do better by you." Laura pulled back, looked her daughter in the eye, and said, "Deception aside, I'm proud of you."

Remington stood to the side. He didn't quite get the joke or understand how Laura – who got so angry with him for even the slightest omission of the truth – was taking this all in stride and looking at her daughter so admiringly.


End file.
